


A Dog's Life

by china_shop



Category: White Collar
Genre: Episode Related, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-11-20
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:04:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/china_shop/pseuds/china_shop
Summary: Peter and Satchmo weigh the benefits of luxury.(Re-write of a tiny scene from 2.08 Company Man.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Dialogue adapted from the episode.

Peter toweled off and, after wrestling with himself for a moment, pulled on one of the hotel’s thick, fluffy robes and walked barefoot back past the baby grand into the huge living room. A baby grand! Did they expect him to sit down and hammer out some sonatas before dinner? Even if he did, Peter bet the walls were thick enough that the people in the neighboring suite wouldn’t hear a thing.

He poured himself another tiny cup of sinfully rich coffee—his second since he’d got back from Nova half an hour ago—and settled in on the couch. He had work to do, but everything was decorated in blank expanses of pale neutrals, and it was oddly hypnotizing. He missed the cheery clutter of home. Still, all this luxury was a nice change, and he’d brought one piece of home with him, curled up asleep by the other end of the couch.

Or not asleep. As Peter looked over, Satchmo raised his head and thumped the floor with his tail, optimistically. 

“Sorry, boy, you’ve already had your walk today.” Peter sipped his coffee and shrugged at his dog. “Yeah, I know it's too late for coffee, but this is Ethiopian Sidamo, and it’s not decaf, and it’s delicious. Don’t tell Elizabeth.”

Satch got up and came to nose Peter’s bare knee. 

Peter rearranged his robe. “Yeah, I know I’ll be tossing all night. What do you care? You’ll be out here on this five thousand dollar rug, dreaming about rabbits.”

Satchmo flicked his ears, his liquid gaze fixed on Peter, and Peter looked around the extravagant room.

“This could have been our life, you know. Million-dollar views, room service, gold dog collars.”

Satchmo yawned, as if he understood what Peter was saying and didn’t want a bar of it.

“Of course you prefer a townhouse in Brooklyn and a tiny concrete patio, rather than having Central Park as your back yard.” Peter thought about that townhouse, about the love that had gone into making it a home. About Elizabeth. He scratched Satchmo’s ears. “Me too, buddy. No regrets. But since El’s away, this isn’t all bad, right? The coffee’s good, and I might have to buy El some silk sheets for her birthday. I never saw myself as a robe guy, but when in Rome…”

Satchmo turned his head, suddenly alert, and a second later Neal’s voice called from outside the door, “Room service!”

Satchmo barked and trotted to the door.

Peter followed. “Coming! I hope you’re in the mood to take Satchmo for a stroll around the block…”


End file.
